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by cleverfics



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Military, British Military, M/M, Military, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleverfics/pseuds/cleverfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 1916 and Louis Tomlinson has been conscripted and called for active duty in the world war. Leaving his boyfriend Harry, his family, and everyone else he loves behind, he takes to the battlefield and finds himself befriending two other young men in uniform, Niall and Zayn. Despite the carnage and warfare, Louis finds he has more to fear than his own life; how are things back home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter one: louis

  It was around noon hour on your typical Thursday afternoon and Louis was walking down the sidewalk, covering the small distance to Harry’s house in record time. While his dad was out working, he left his sisters with his mum at home to join his boyfriend at his rather empty house at this time of day. Harry’s sister was away filling her duty to the war as a nurse at one of the on-site stationary hospitals, working to keep men healthy, heal the wounded, and keep the casualties at bay; whereas his mum was busy working the dayshift at the grocers down the block. Harry had dropped out of high school at the age of fifteen, taking up the job offer of being a paperboy and delivering the daily news to subscribers bright and early every morning. The pay wasn’t overly great, but it was enough so that he could chip in and help his mum meet ends here and there. Louis had taken to keeping Harry company in the afternoons before his mother got home, taking the opportunity to spend every possible moment with the boy he cared so much for; not that either of their parents were aware of the kindling love between the two of them. After rounding the slight bend he could see Harry’s house at the end of the street, and would make it there in almost literally a blink of an eye.

  “Hey Skip, c’mere boy!” He called as he walked up the front lawn. The fully grown blonde retriever trotted over to him, tail wagging and nose nuzzling into his leg, and Louis pet playfully over his head, scratching behind his ears. “Good boy, good boy,” Louis cooed as the dog’s eyes crinkled in satisfaction. Louis and Harry have been together for two years now, and to this very day Harry still says Louis loves his dog more than him. Louis usually scoffs at the idea, but they get a laugh out of the way he passes it off and reaches a hand out tentatively to stroke back Skip’s long fur coat, combing his fingers through it.

  The dog trailed him up the porch steps and through the familiar front door, and Louis kicked off his shoes in the foyer and hung up his jacket on the old rack, calling out, “Honey, I’m hooome!” to Harry, wherever he was. He guessed he might be up in his room, so he took the stairs two by two until he was opening the old, creaky bedroom door, coming face to face with Harry, just as he had suspected. Harry, with his big green eyes and his rich brown curls draped across his forehead, was sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and his elbows propped up on his knees, his chin resting on a fisted hand. Louis lunged across the room in a single stride and took Harry’s face in both of his hands, caressing his cheeks, and kissed the frown right off his lips.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” He asked, taking a seat next to him and noticing the newspaper that was perched in his lap, creased and folded like it’d been worked in his hands, miserably, for quite some time now.

  “It’s official,” he said, stopping to pick up said newspaper and shove it in Louis’ face. “They’re going ahead with conscription now. Apparently killing off everyone who was  _willing_  to fight for them isn’t enough, now they’ve got to kill everyone who values their lives, apparently!” Harry shrieked, his eyes welling up. “Listen to this:  _Fit, unwed men between the ages of eighteen to thirty-one are liable to be drafted and called up for service._ ”

  “You’re only sixteen, babe, there’s no need to fret, they can’t make you do anything.” Louis told him, stroking his fingertips over the flushed skin of his cheek.

  “No,  _you_ , Lou.” Harry choked out, pulling Louis closer into his side and falling back onto the bed with him in his arms.

  They spent a few minutes in silence, just lying there for a bit, Harry’s hand curled up and resting on Louis’ chest directly over his heart. Harry could tell by the suddenly unsteady rise and fall of his chest that Louis was worried about this too, now. Since the war had started two years ago, everything around them had gone downhill. Poverty rates had risen, Harry’s own father had died along with many others they’d known their whole lives, living conditions grew worse and worse with people starving all the time, and the trade unions were changed. Louis was healthy, nineteen, single in the eyes of the law, and a perfect candidate for their next casualty on the battlefield.

  “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?” Louis asked quietly. It was barely a whisper, but it still broke the silence. His words tainted the atmosphere with sadness. “If I have to go away, will you wait for me?”

  Harry opted to answer that with a kiss. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Louis’ neck as their lips meshed together, languid and passionate. Their mouths worked together, molding against each other in the softest way. Harry had the taste of Louis on his tongue when he pulled back and sucked a deep breath in. Harry’s hands searched the bed between them until they found one of Louis’, and he tangled their fingers together.

  “I was going to sign up, you know.” Louis said, his voice cracking with sadness. “When I turned eighteen people were pressuring me into it, because it was more or less of a pride thing, and the opportunity to stand up for our nation. But you know how my father is,” Louis sighed, thoughts of his father recollecting before he diminished them from his mind. His father was a cruel man; he was a hard worker, yes, but he was a drunk in the evenings and he was harsh towards his wife and kids. “He’s a farmer, they’d never let him leave his fields for theirs when they need his precious crops. I figured if I left, who’s going to watch over my mother and sisters?”

  “I don’t blame you,” Harry breathed.

  “Will you watch over them if I have to leave?” Louis asked, his voice drained of all emotions.

  “You say that like it’s a definite thing,” Harry argued, sidestepping answering the actual question.

  “Harry, please.”

  “What do you want me to say, Louis?”

  “I want you to tell me that when the time comes, if I get called away, that not only will you watch over yourself for me, but you’ll make sure my little sisters are safe too. I want you to tell me that you’ll make sure my father doesn’t drink a bottle of whiskey and back hand my mother across the face when the girls aren’t looking. I want you to tell me that if I’m out there fearing for my life that I don’t have to fear for Daisy or Phoebe or Lottie or Fizzy’s too.  _That_  is what I want you to tell me, Harry.” Louis snapped, water brimming his eyes with his anger, the tears threatening to spill over. “And I want you to tell me that you won’t forget about me.”

  Guilt and anguish built up inside Harry and his heart ached over the pain in his boyfriend’s voice. Of course he would do all of that; he loved those girls like they were his own family, of course he would see to it that no harm came to them. Of course he would fill Louis’ vacancy in their lives, and try not to dwell on the void in his own. Of course he would never forget Louis, the boy who occupied all of the space in his heart. Tears collected at his eyes too, because what if all of this really happened? What if Louis was taken away from him to serve their country, and what if he did have to live up to all of this. Could he even take care of  _himself_  with Louis gone?

  “Harry?” Louis’ voice was soft and milky as it floated between them. He brought a hand up and wiped away the single tear from Harry’s eye before dropping it back down onto the bed.

  “Yes,” he sobbed. “I’d do all of that in a heartbeat, I swear. I just don’t want you to go, Louis, I love you. I don’t want to think about you leaving me behind and fear that you’ll join my father and never come back. I’d do anything for you Louis, but I don’t want—”

  “Shh, babe, shh.” Louis cut him off, pulling him in tighter against his chest. He could feel Harry’s breath against the exposed skin of his neck between the buttons of his shirt and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. A single hand found the small of Harry’s back and his blue eyes met those familiar green. Worry, angst, and horror masked the vibrant colours of their irises as their pupils narrowed in on each other. This small but intimate moment only lasted between the two of them for mere minutes as a rather large and heavy dog jumped up onto the mattress and dug his way between the two of them.

  “C’mon Skip, get outta here!” Harry scolded, rather annoyed with him.

  “Aw, don’t worry I still love you,” Louis teased, sticking his tongue out at Harry and scratching behind Skip’s ears. “Good boy.”

  “Don’t encourage him! This is why he acts terribly, because he gets on everyone’s nerves and you reward and praise him, stop that,” Harry protested, crossing his arms over his chest. “You ruined my dog.”

  “Your dog is perfect, Harold, shut up,” Louis smiled at him and then looked back down to Skip, whose tongue was sticking out of his mouth, drool oozing slowly onto the bed below him. “You’re perfect, aren’t ya boy?

  Harry crinkled his nose at the affection his boyfriend had for his dog, and he sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. “I’ll look after your precious Skip too,” Harry teased.

  “You better,” Louis warned, standing up too. He grabbed the newspaper from the surface of the crumpled bed sheets and tossed it into the garbage can by the door. “There, we’re done with this.”

  Still stiff with tension, Harry nodded in agreement before taking his boyfriend’s hand and leading him downstairs. “Let’s go out,” he suggested, so they slipped on their shoes and jackets and shut the door behind them.

~

  “Did you guys hear they’re starting conscription?” Liam asked, sitting around the small table in in his and Danielle’s kitchen. The four of them were perched up upright on the black wooden chairs with glasses of iced tea in front of them. Liam’s chocolate brown eyes were milky and covered with a layer of worry, and a strand of his waved hair fell carelessly into his forehead as he spoke.

  “Yeah, heard all about it. Lucky you though, being married so young, huh?” Louis smiled at their best friend, who sat across from him with his wife, Danielle, at his side. They linked hands over the table and Danielle’s thumb brushed over the roof of Liam’s hand with comfort. He didn’t mean for it to come out sour, but it was just a touchy subject at the moment, what with the emotional conversation he and Harry had just a little while earlier. He was, however, genuinely relieved for his friend. At this moment in his life he was so happy that his best mate had met his lifelong partner so young and decided to make it official. “Only picking the unwed and all that,” he murmured.

  “Yeah, well you know I’d be out there right now if I didn’t have a wife to take care of back here,” Liam sighed. “Don’t worry about this sort of thing, Lou. Everything will be fine.”

  Danielle sipped a bit of iced tea before setting the cup back down on the table. “It’s too bad you two couldn’t just get married.”

  “Yeah, if only,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting down to the floor. Louis’ hand extended out under the table, searching for Harry’s. He grasped it within his own, mimicking Liam and Danielle across from them, and squeezed lightly, feeling the warmth of his lover’s skin against his own.

  “The afternoon is growing late,” Louis commented, staring through the thick glass of the window to their left. He needed to get home before his father got back in from his fieldwork. “We’d better head out.”

  Both Louis and Harry left the small, familiar house after waving goodbye to their friends, and took off down the sidewalk, breathing in the crisp air, the afternoon shade engulfing them and protecting them from the orangey glow of the sun. They turned off of Liam and Danielle’s street, which wasn’t far from Harry’s. Louis walked him to the door, placing a kiss on his waiting lips and turned back for the road, making his way home. He heard Skip’s familiar bark in the background of the neighbourhood at his leave, and smiled. He spotted the moon in the sky and watched it dodge the shifting clouds the entire time he was walking back home alone.

  His feet shuffled lazily through the front door, and as per typical routine, he stripped from his outerwear and made way for the kitchen to help his mother with dinner. She was leaning against the counter, cutting up some vegetables to throw into a pot of boiling water, and he took her place, ridding her of the job by taking the knife right from her hands.

  “Are the girls all sat in the living room?” he asked, flicking his fringe out of his eyes with a cock of his head. She seemed to be a bit distracted, as he had enough time to pick up a handful of chopped carrots and radishes and plop them all into the bubbling pot before she answered.

  “Oh, uh, yes. Last time I checked, they were playing with their dolls together.” His mother smiled, genuineness taking its time to snake its way up to the sparkle in her eyes. Louis just nodded and got back to chopping when his father busted through the front door. His jacket was hung over his forearm and he kicked his boots off, making a mess of everyone else’s shoes there. He stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed the newspaper off the counter. Louis wasn’t sure when the last time he had shaved was, but he guessed it wasn’t this morning, as there was a dark and dirty layer of shadowy scruff over his chin.

  “Don’t call me when dinner’s ready. I’ll eat later,” he said roughly, reaching past Louis for a glass and the bottle of whiskey from the cupboard.

  “It’s only five o’clock, a bit early for that isn’t it?” Louis voiced, which he almost immediately regretted when his father’s hand came up. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a slap across the cheek for opening his mouth, but for some reason it never came.

  “Daddy?” Daisy’s voice came low from the doorway of the kitchen. Louis opened one of his eyes, still nervous and expecting the handprint he was sure was still yet to come. Their father dropped his arm from where it hung in the air, ready to swing and slap red hard across his face. She blinked innocently before continuing, taking her time now that she had his attention. “Please don’t hurt Louis, Daddy. Not today, please.”

  Without another word from any of them, he grabbed the bottle and strode from the room, the brownish alcohol sloshing around within the glass as he moved. Their mother’s face looked a yellowy pale, as though all her blood had drained from the moment he had stepped into the room, and it took her a minute or two to regain her colour. As soon as he was gone, Daisy ran to Louis and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly. He picked her up off the ground and poked at her frown until the corners of her lips finally twitched upward.

  “I can take care of myself, Dais. What if he turned and got mad at you?” Louis worried himself over nothing. He shifted his little sister until she was resting on his hipbone, her legs wrapped around his torso and her arms around his neck. She stayed quiet, not bothering to humour him with the assurance that he wanted to hear. He dumped the rest of the vegetables into the pot and left the room with his sister still attached to his side, joining the rest of the girls in the living room.

  “Lottie read us the news story!” Fizzy shrieked when he entered the room, lunging from the floor to her brother, hugging him and holding him captive in her grip before he had a chance to even walk over to the group of them. Phoebe jumped off the ground next and claimed his leg, holding onto him for dear life. All of them looked and sounded as if they were terrified he was going off to die. Lottie, however, stayed sat in her spot on the old hardwood floor, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees instead of attacking him like the rest of the girls.

  “Okay, okay, everyone today has been acting like it’s a for sure thing that I’m going to be sent off to war, and you all make it seem like it’s the worst thing in the world! Lots of men are out there right now and it’s a damn honourable thing, and they’ll get to come back home to their families after this is all over and spend the rest of their lives with them. It’s a  _draft_  girls, I haven’t been chosen, yet, or maybe even at all. Everyone just needs to calm down, because I’m not going anywhere!”

  All four of them looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes. They weren’t expecting Louis to blow up; they were just worried about his safety. He was their big brother, their respectable father figure, their Louis. They let go of him and he set Daisy down and crumpled onto the sofa across from them.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to freak out, this is just a bit stressful; I hope you can understand.”

  A chorus of yeses and nods buzzed through the room from each of the girls, except for Lottie.

  “C’mere Lot,” Louis said, opening his arms up. She picked herself up off the floor and joined him on the sofa, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t read the papers anymore, ‘kay?”

  She just nodded before whispering, “I love you, Louis.”

  Their mum called all of them to the kitchen for dinner, where they sat around the table, eating and chatting quietly about their day. When supper was finished, Daisy and Phoebe cleared off the table while Fizzy and Lottie washed the dishes. Half way through cleaning everything up their father came downstairs with his glass of bitter alcohol in his hand, like always, so their mother relieved them of their chores and Louis brought them upstairs.

  “Does anyone have schoolwork to finish?” Louis asked as his four little sisters piled into his bedroom. Instead of answering him they dragged him to the bed and jumped on both him and the mattress. “Alright, calm down. Come here, my loves,” he said, scooting over so he was sat up against the headboard, and all four of them jumped to sit with him. They could hear their father yelling downstairs, seemly getting angrier and angrier. He would raise his voice at their mother and they attempted to ignore his crude shouting, but it turns out, as hard as they tried to tune it out, it just got worse. When they heard the crack of a glass against the wooden floors, crystal shattering into a million pieces just below them, Louis saw it fit to do something to distract them. “How about a bedtime story?”

  The five of them curled up under the blankets of his bed and he told a mindless story of how the princess found her prince, until all of their eyes had grown heavy and closed, soft snores escaping their lips.


	2. chapter two: louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s 1916 and Louis Tomlinson has been conscripted and called for active duty in the world war. Leaving his boyfriend Harry, his family, and everyone else he loves behind, he takes to the battlefield and finds himself befriending two other young men in uniform, Niall and Zayn. Despite the carnage and warfare, Louis finds he has more to fear than his own life; how are things back home?

  On Fridays, Louis picked up a shift at the steel factory, when Tom took his day off. It was the only day they offered him the shift, and the hours were always extended and the pay was better than most other jobs. It was half past six in the morning, and Louis was getting ready for his seven o’clock shift. He stood in the bathroom opposite the mirror, combing through his feathery hair and sliding on his uniform jacket before doing up each of the three buttons down the front. The walk was a bit longer than his usual journeys, so he tied up his black working shoes hastily and set off to the factory on foot. His father had woken up to get himself ready to go back to the fields at the same time that Louis left, which he was thankful for, so they didn’t have to get ready for work together that morning.

  Nearing seven o’clock, the sun began to rise and Louis could see the factory just a couple blocks away. Unfiltered smoke emitted into the air and mingled in with the clouds from the smokestacks angrily, puffs of a thick, white, intangible substance shooting up and dancing through the sky that you could smell from where Louis was, a street or two over. He got there, eventually covering up his nose with the top of his jacket to shield him from the smoke and chemical smell, and walked briskly through the doors to the clock-in station where he joined the rest of the men.

  “It’s Friday, the kid’s here!” one of the older guys shouted as Louis was signing his name across the hour sheet. “Good news for you kid, hours are long today. Expect a good day’s pay!”

  Louis just smiled and got to work, hauling the steel from the beds to the cutting station, working up a sweat after carrying the first bundle just halfway. The job was a good work out, that’s for sure; he had roughly fifty more stacks to go. If he got done on record time they’d relocate him to a new station, and perhaps see him fit to pick up a Tuesday shift the next week as well.

  When break time came, Louis hauled through it instead of joining the rest of the men outdoors for a rolled lite of tobacco. He’d rather work through than char up his lungs. Plus, if he didn’t stop, he’d be done with the job fifteen minutes earlier. The steel bundles were heavy, and transporting them to the cutting station by foot was a treachery; his back always ended up sore by the end of the day. When lunchtime came around, he still didn’t stop, figuring he’d eat the butter and mustard sandwich he’d packed on the walk home instead. Although he was tired and his stomach felt a little hallow, when the second break time rolled around, he didn’t stop then either.

  Fortunately, as it turns out, his effort paid off, too. He had the entire bed of steel unloaded after just eight hours, rather than nine. When he finished up before the others, the man in charge came around, the name of whom, Louis wasn’t quite sure. He pat him on the shoulder with smile of praise for his hard work. After a small chat discussing whether he’d like to pick up a neglected Tuesday shift the following week, he sent Louis over to the welding station. The feeling of exhaustion fled from his bones as fueled ambition replaced it, and he set off to be trained to use one of the welders. If he could prove himself and pick up enough shifts, perhaps he could get permanently placed here at the steel factory like all the men were, and earn enough to get his sisters out of that house.

  Work stretched on until seven at night, which was much later than he figured he’d be working, but nevertheless, he signed out on the hour sheet, marking a solid twelve with the graphite pencil next to his signature and collected his earnings from the tall and still unbeknownst man in charge.

  With a smile before he was headed away, the man called out, “Oh and Louis, I expect to see you here at seven o’clock sharp both Tuesday and Friday. If a young lad like you were to keep up the good work he should get himself a full week’s work here.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Louis said, waving and turning out of the building. As he stepped outside, he was swallowed by the chilly nighttime air. He quickly did up the buttons on his work jacket and shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his fists to keep his fingers warm. His stomach started growling uncontrollably about ten feet into his walk home and he cursed himself for not taking that lunch break, even though everything had paid off. It was too cold to eat the lunch he’d skipped now, so he just suffered through the chorus of growls that kept up heartily the whole walk home.

  When Louis was in front of his neighbour’s, house he could already hear his father yelling. He’d forgotten about the fact that he had worked later than usual and soon picked up pace, running to the house, over and up the porch steps to see what was the matter. The front door flung right open and the knob dug into the wall with his forceful push to get it open, and before he even bothered to take his outerwear off, he went to the kitchen.

  “Damn it Jay, where the  _fuck_  is the bottle!” He screeched, stepping in closer to Louis’ mother and pointing his finger angrily in her face.

  “I—I told you I don’t know!” She cried out defensively, genuinely unsure of the whereabouts of his liquor.

  “Are you sure you didn’t leave it upstairs?” Louis interjected before his father Jon had time to take his frustration out on his mum. Jay’s face fell solemn as Jon, her husband, turned to face Louis, who he didn’t know was even in the kitchen.

  “Don’t you talk back to me young man or I’ll have you out on your arse!” His dad yelled, striding across the kitchen and grabbing Louis by his hair. He yanked hard and Louis bent down with the pull of his hair, biting his tongue so not to cry out and give him what he wants.

  “Get your hands off my son,” Jay ordered shakily, and his eyes just grew darker.

  Louis’ head was aching where his father’s hand was fisted tightly in his hair, still forcefully enough to be pulling at the roots. Finally, with the immediate sense of relief, he felt the grip go and Louis straightened back up immediately, only to see his father have a fit and knock over whatever glass plate or bowl was sitting on the counter in front of him. The porcelain shattered against the floor and his father threw his jacket on over his shoulders.

  “Clean this up you bunch of useless bastards,” he spat, pushing past Louis and aggressively shoulder-checking him on the way out.

  He bent down to the floor to begin picking up the pieces of glass at his feet, and his mother joined him, her frail shaking fingers extending out to grab a couple pieces. They cleaned it up in silence and she grabbed the broom and swept the small patch of wooden floor there as Louis fell into one of the old dining chairs, exhausted.

  “Did he hit you?” Louis asked aloud at the same time as his mother asked, “Are you alright?” and neither of them heard each other’s question.

  “Did he hurt you?” Louis asked again, rephrasing. He didn’t expect his mother to give him an honest answer if he did, but he’d see the truth in her eyes, or the bruise on her arm within the next day or so. She shook her head no before swallowing thickly.

  “How’s your head?” She asked, walking over and petting the patch of Louis’ hair that stung at the scalp.

  “I’ve had worse,” Louis states, which is true. Hair pulling his quite mild compared to those times he’s been slapped, kicked or whipped, and especially mild as compared to the time he had been beaten all the way down the stairs from his bedroom. He let out an estranged laugh, realizing how much of a joke it is that he’s relieved it’s only his head that hurts. They shouldn’t have to put up with this; he shouldn’t be hurting at all. “How are the girls?”

  “When he got home I sent them to Cher’s next door,” she said simply. He let out another humourless chuckle under his breath at the fact that his mother only sees it fit that the girls wander the streets until late at night or crash at his mate’s so they don’t have to be around their father. “Hoping you can run and get them when you’re cleaned up.”

  Louis looked down at his hands that were covered in grime and grease. He stood up and kicked his work boots off, placing them near the front door, and stripping off his work jacket. From his trouser pocket he pulled out his day’s pay and set all eight four-pence coins on the kitchen table.

  “Made thirty-two pence today,” Louis smiled. “Picked up two shifts for next week, too. Might even get put on fulltime, the chap said.”

  “Louis, baby, that’s great,” Jay smiled, and Louis just nodded.

  He left the room on a spin of his heel, heading for the bathroom upstairs, where he filled the small tub with water and retrieved a bar of soap, sudsing and scrubbing the sweat and dirt from his body and rinsing the bubbles off into the tub.

  After he was cleaned and in fresh clothes he retrieved the girls from their next door neighbour’s, sat down for dinner finally, and went to bed early as he was proper tired after the extensive day he had.

~

  The weekend had flown by effortlessly; mostly, Louis will admit, because his father had not come back home that Friday night. Jon had stepped into the house early Saturday morning, just long enough to bathe and slip into his work clothing, and then he was back out in the fields. Louis and Harry had spent the day over at Liam’s, curled up together on one of his cheap and uncomfortable living room chairs, opposite where he and Danielle were sat on their small sofa. By the time he got back home just before five o’clock, when his father was set to walk in the door, dinner was made and the girls were sat around the table with plates in front of them and smiles on their faces. Their dad walked in right on cue, but kept walking right past them and he dragged himself up the stairs and fell into bed; exhaustion overpowering his desire to drink for the first time in as long as anyone could remember.

  Sunday was spent much the same, Louis meeting Harry at the end of his paper route with a quick kiss and he lead them the few streets over to Liam’s. They didn’t stay at Liam’s on Sunday however, because Danielle’s mum had stopped by to help her with the laundry washing and to teach her a new recipe. Danielle’s mother says that part of being a wife, especially a young wife, is to learn how to spoil your husband every once in a while, and with that, she taught her a few tricks of the trade. Well, if marriage was a trade. Liam left with a stern warning from his mother-in-law to not to go ‘gallivanting’ while his wife awaits him back at home for dinner, so he made a mental note not to stay out as late as he normally would with the boys. This lovely Sunday they spent fishing down by the lake, which was something they did every once in a while, when the weather seemed fit. The day was nice enough, so they pulled their old poles out from the shack behind Harry’s house, dug up a couple of worms with their fingers for bate and sat themselves along the dock, their feet dangling over the water.

  “The trick is to sit still, young Harold,” Louis instructed, just like he had what seems like millions of times before. So Harry wasn’t the  _best_  fisherman out there, but Louis didn’t hold that against him, he just tried to teach him time and time again.

  “I am sitting still, Lou. I haven’t moved at all, I swear.”

  “Nonsense. Then why hasn’t a single fish dared to take a bite off your line?” Harry rolled his eyes at Louis and Liam laughed.

  “You two fight more than me and Dani, an  _actual_  married couple!” Liam’s guffaws sounded from Louis’ right side, and Harry, who was on his left side, leaned over his lap to stick his tongue out at Liam.

  “Now look, babe. You sit still. Wait for the nibble,” Louis instructed yet again, and Harry mimicked his every movement. “And once you feel the bite—that’s it! Reel it in, you’ve got it!”

  Harry’s mouth was agape as he stared in awe at his catch, which now hung in front of his eyes. He had to admit, the fish eyes were creepy as hell, but he was still proud of himself. Out of all the times they’d ever been fishing this was the first time he’d be able to come home with a fish; a real live actual fish that his mum could clean and cook. He was absolutely delighted.

  Louis gave him a quick kiss; his lips warm with congratulations for his younger boyfriend. “Bet you can’t catch another,” he teased, and Harry took him up on the bet.

  And that is how Sunday was wasted away. Harry lost the bet, but still considered himself the winner as he took his catch home and showed his mum. Liam took the two he caught home and his mother-in-law was delighted, saying that she’d have to come back over the next day to teach Danielle a fish recipe. Louis may not have caught any that day, but it didn’t hurt his ego in the slightest, seeing as he finally taught Harry, who seemed to almost be getting the hang of it now.

  When Louis got home on Sunday night, he stayed up into the late hours of the night with his mother after making sure all the girls were tucked into bed. His father didn’t show up at all Sunday night, and they were short to complain of his absence.

~

  The peaceful weekend was nothing but a fluke, as it turns out, which, unfortunately, Louis doesn’t become aware of until it’s too late.

  On Monday, Harry had fallen ill with a spell of the flu, his stomach lurching every time he moved, holding the threat of vomit over his head all day. When Louis showed up to his house that afternoon, he found Harry bedbound and covered from head to toe in a thick knit blanket.

  “Feels like a fever, Haz,” Louis says after placing a palm on the surface of Harry’s burning forehead, where his curls have been matted down to his skin with sweat. His eyes are heavy and his body is limp on the mattress, curling further into the sheets as he feels his stomach twist again. “Here, babe, drink this glass of water,” Louis tells him, handing Harry the glass of water that has sat stagnant on his bedside since the night before. “If you can keep that down, I’ll heat you up an herbal tea, ‘kay? It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Love you,” Harry manages to smile, looking up at Louis, who has engaged in taking care of him without request.

  Harry does keep the water down, successfully drinking the whole glass and not spitting it back up, so Louis flees from his bedside to the kitchen to boil a pot of water and mixes in the herbs carefully, making a strong tea that’s sure to make Harry’s unsettled tummy feel better. He walks back upstairs with the steaming cup of tea and hands it to Harry, who’s managed to sit up in bed now. Louis sits beside the bed, holding the hand of Harry that isn’t balancing a fresh cup of tea. The tea doesn’t work miracles though, and Harry still feels sick after a while. Harry is positive he can’t eat anything without throwing it back up, so Louis just makes him more tea, determined to get some nutrients into his ill-ridden boyfriend.

  When the tea does start to work Harry is thankful and Louis just says, “You’re just lucky to have me.”

  And although he’s joking, and Harry knows it, he can’t help but skip the wit and reply with sincerity. “I know I am.”

  Unfortunately by the time Harry is feeling well enough for Louis to leave, not that either of them actually  _want_  him to, it’s getting late and Harry’s mum is expected to be home at any minute. She’d been working an extended shift, so that’s how they got away with being together even after dark. Louis goes in for the goodbye kiss but Harry stops him, telling him the peck isn’t worth the gut wrenching flu, so he instead blows a kiss into the air that Harry catches with a grin.

  With the visual of Harry like that zeroed in his mind and trapped there for most likely ever, he takes his leave and starts his walk home. He wasn’t at all kidding about seeing Harry in that very moment and having it seared into his memory; wide-eyed and smiley, a figurative kiss caught between his fingers and the palm of his hand, swaddled in the blankets of his bed with floppy curls sticking up messily.

  When gets in the house and gets comfortable though, he notices something is off.

  “Mum?” He called out, wondering where she was. She was always downstairs in the kitchen or sitting in the living room with a cup of tea. “Dais? Fizz?”

  He took the stairs up two by two until he came face to face with the door to the girls’ bedroom. There were two beds, each on opposite sides of the room, and one was neglected entirely. Jay was who Louis noticed first, crouched over with her hair tied back out of her face. The fact that all of his sisters were in there came with a second thought and the fact that they were all crowded around one bed came with a third. He stepped in closer, slowly and cautiously.

  He peered over Jay’s hunched shoulder and saw Phoebe curled up on the bed with tears streaming down her face. Underneath her right eye sat a welted bruise; it was swollen and purpling, the true definition of black and blue. She looked up at him with blue eyes that usually glowed, but this time they were dull and pained. Lottie stepped out of the way so Louis could get in closer and he reached out onto the bed and scooped his sister into his arms and against his chest, her tears salt staining his t-shirt. He stroked a thumb gently over her cheekbone, so soft he’d barely grazed it at all. She blinked and tears caught in her eyelashes.

  “When?” Was all Louis asked.

  “Less than a half an hour ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see him walking down the street, did you cross his path at all?” Jay asked. Louis shook his head, but he couldn’t tell her why. His parents didn’t know about Harry’s involvement in his life at all, so he couldn’t explain to her that he wasn’t at Liam’s and that’s why he didn’t see him at the crossroads before the bend.

  “She’s five bloody years old,” Louis spit between barred teeth. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  “Louis, watch your mouth,” Jay scolded, covering the ears of Daisy with her hands.

  “Oh, they hear enough cussing from  _him_  already, damn it!” Louis snaps. “I mean it.”

  Louis is livid for the rest of the night. He can’t help but see red and taste the anger on his tongue as it dries out his mouth. The thing though, is that below his extensive anger is a layer of guilt; if he were home, he would have protected his sister from their father’s swing and she wouldn’t have an anguishing bruise on her face or a blackening eye. His anger overpowers the guilt, though, as he stays with her all that night, the frail little girl locked in his arms.

  He’s still livid the next morning too, but he has to put aside his anger because he’s expected to work the welding shift. He clocks in and spends the whole day with fire and metals, thinking about how his father better not come home again tonight. At one point, he idly wonders where it is that he stays when he doesn’t return home. Probably in the lot of a pub in his drunken haze, or on a bale of straw back at the fields. Both serve him about right. He better make cozy with the hay again because there is no way Louis is letting him back in that house and near his family again, especially not Phoebe.

~

  By Wednesday, Harry is feeling better. Louis is up bright and early and decides to join him on his walk through the town on his paper route. He drops off the daily news at each subscribed house, the job getting done faster as Louis runs ahead to mark off a few houses here and there.

  When they get back to Harry’s house the two of them collapse onto his bed and curl up against one another, soft finger pads tracing the skin of each other’s arms. At some point or another they had fallen asleep, because when their eyes fluttered open again it was late afternoon and the sun was far west in the sky amongst the clouds, shining through Harry’s bedroom window. They rubbed their eyes free of sleep and made way for downstairs, where they happened to find Anne with a bit of a startle.

  “Oh uh, hi mum,” Harry stutters out. “What are you doing home?”

  “Mary came in early today and took the rest of the shift off my hands,” she explained. Her eyes lingered past her son and to the shorter boy with the feathery fringe. “Who’s this?”

  Harry and Louis had made a point of it not to introduce each other to their parents. Louis had only met Gemma once, by accident, and Harry had met Louis’ sisters when he visited their house the couple of weekends that Jay had left town to take care of her mother in Doncaster. As they’d both took a liking to each other’s siblings, the two of them still weren’t over the hills about their parents knowing about them, so they’d made a point of it not to be around when the house was otherwise already occupied.

  “Oh right, um, this is Louis.” Harry spoke quickly. “And Louis this is my mum.”

  “Pleasure to meet—” Anne began to say, extending a hand out to shake Louis’ upon their greeting. Harry cut her off though, snagging Louis backward, although he was about to return the handshake.

  “Sorry to rush, but we’ve got to go!” Harry called out, pushing Louis back through the house and to the door. They slipped on their shoes and light jackets and the sound of their footfall down the porch steps was enough to make Skip coming running.

  “Going to walk me home?” Louis asked, bending down give Skip a welcome scratch behind the ears. The dog’s eyes perked up at the familiar touch from Louis and he trotted along behind them as they started walking again.

  “’Course.” Harry smiled. “But I’ll be honest, it’s mostly because I don’t wanna be home while my mum is still curious about you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The rest of the short walk back to Louis’ house is filled with incessant chatter amongst the two of them, strangled barks from Skip when he spots another dog, and a wave in the general direction of old Ms. Patty, where she was sat out on her porch with a cup of iced tea in her hand and a big smile on her face for the boys.

  “See you tomorrow,” Louis says before turning quickly. Cher’s mum next door is outside tending to her small flower garden in the front of her house, so there is no kiss goodbye this time. Harry turns back as well, his big blonde dog following him still. “Bye, Skip!”

  Louis isn’t in the house for all of thirty seconds before everything is distressed. He finds his mother sitting at the kitchen table with a folded piece of paper in her hand. Her long hair has been tied back again and her dress is marked with dust, probably from spending the day cleaning up the house. The girls can be heard from the living room, chitchat and banter flying across the room and through the thin walls of the house. Louis pulled a wooden chair out and took a seat next to his mother, who had devastation written across her face.

  “Mum?” He asked carefully, his voice soft and wary.

  “This was in the post this morning,” she said equally as quiet, handing the creased sheet over to him. “It’s for you.”

  The blood drained from Louis’ face as he took the note, unfolded it, and read the words aloud.

_Dearest Mr. Tomlinson,_

_As you may be aware, our nation is at war and for the past two years we’ve used voluntary recruitment. As it is, the response of this method to date is not quite satisfactory. The government has issued a draft of unwed men who would serve as fit candidates for our forces between the ages of eighteen and thirty-one._

_We are in desperate need of reinforcements, and that is why we are calling upon you today. Your devotion and duty in this time of emergency is your debt to Britain. You will serve your country greatly, and this we appreciate of you._

_Furthermore, we expect to see you at the Civil Defense Services department at nine o’clock sharp on September 16 th 1916. Please be prepared for a physical examination and bring your certificate of identification for confidential purposes only._

_Thank you._


	3. chapter three: louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s 1916 and Louis Tomlinson has been conscripted and called for active duty in the world war. Leaving his boyfriend Harry, his family, and everyone else he loves behind, he takes to the battlefield and finds himself befriending two other young men in uniform, Niall and Zayn. Despite the carnage and warfare, Louis finds he has more to fear than his own life; how are things back home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT IT’S WEEKS LATE I’M HORRIBLE I KNOW BUT THIS 8K BEAST CHAPTER WILL DEFINITELY MAKE UP FOR IT & um so the story has been in Louis’ point of view so far but while he’s away I’m going to flip between POV’s so you can see how Harry is back home (hey I said the thing) and I’m thinking of posting them in different parts? Like “chapter four part one: harry, part two: louis” or something, just as a heads up.  
> Also:  
> \- I’M SORRY???  
> \- this chapter is mature and explicit ooo  
> \- shout out to my beta hay gurl  
> \- FEEDBACK WOULD BE SO GREAT BECAUSE THIS CHAPTER WAS A BITCH TO GET THROUGH AND I WANT TO KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT IT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT PARTING SOME OF THE FUTURE CHAPTERS  
> \- this is important and the fate of the world is relying on you  
> \- excuse my melodramatics and let me know what you think  
> \- also i promise to never make an author’s notes section this long ever again

  With the letter creased and folded in his hands, much like the newspaper Harry had made an anxious mess of just two short weeks ago, Louis began to wander the roads aimlessly until they brought him somewhere. That is how he found himself here, face to face with Liam’s door. He knocked once, twice, and finally a third nervous rap on the tall plank at the entrance of his house.

  Danielle answered the door with a smile before seeing Louis’ blank expression, and pulled him into a hug. Her hand smoothed across his back to comfort him, and though he was grateful for the hopeful touch, he pulled back.

  “Can I…” Louis mumbled, looking Danielle in the eye. His face looked tired; bags had formed under his eyes and were growing darker and darker with each passing minute, casting shadows just under where his lashes lay.

  “Oh, Lou, of course, c’mon. Liam’s in the living room, I’ll go put on some tea.” Danielle’s voice was warm and invigorating, and it seeped through the cracks in Louis’ world, making him feel comforted and safe, despite the news he had brought to share. Louis made his way through the corridor and to the living room, where Liam was sprawled out on the sofa with an old book perched in his lap.

  “Hey Lou, didn’t expect to see you out tonight,” Liam commented, sitting up and closing the novel. When they met eyes, he saw the sadness swimming beneath Louis’ usually animated hues of blue. “Everything okay?”

  “No, not really,” he muttered, reaching out to hand his best friend the overworked piece of paper. Liam unfolded it and his brows creased together, furrowing thickly as lines of concentration and concern embedded themselves into his forehead. His eyes skimmed over the content of the note and by the time he read it all, the corners of his lips were tugging downward against his will.

  “Oh.” Was all he could stammer out before moving in and pulling Louis into his arms. Danielle came into the room then, with three steaming porcelain mugs balancing on a tray in her hands and she set them down immediately, moving into squeeze beside Liam and wrap herself around Louis’ other side. Louis pressed his cheek against Liam’s neck and felt the tips of Danielle’s long, curly hair touch and tickle his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to have such good friends.

  Louis eventually pulled back and Danielle moved to line herself up with Liam and find his hand, enclosing them together for comfort. As Louis noticed, he found his own hand cold and empty, a roaring pain flaring up in his heart.

  The wind suddenly caught in Liam’s throat as he glanced back down at the paper still gripped between his fingers. “Louis, the sixteenth is tomorrow,” he choked.

  “I know, Li. What do I do?” His eyes were sullen and just as dark as the underneaths. He wore his stress on his shoulders and stood there slouching beneath the weight of his circumstances. Liam’s face softened as he came to realise that the older boy didn’t come over here to inform him that he’d be leaving; he came because he was at a loss, and Liam felt all too familiar with that at the moment. They stood there for a few moments, unvoiced thoughts stirring between them. Danielle was the first one to speak.

  “What did Harry say?”

  Louis opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut, as he didn’t have an answer to that. The fact of the matter is that he had thought to come to Liam first.

  “You haven’t told Harry yet?” she asked, her eyes layered over with disapproval. Louis couldn’t help but understand how she was shocked, as he was most definite that, in a situation even remotely similar, Liam wouldn’t have betrayed her by coming to him first about it. This was different though. He and Harry weren’t married, didn’t live together, and worst of all, he didn’t even know how to tell Harry. All of this put him in a position that made his stomach knot with fear and heartbreak, so trying to search for words was out of the question.

  “Well—no—I mean—I was going to—but—” Louis tripped over his words as his eyes reddened and grew puffy, tears collecting and getting stuck in his eyelashes before streaking down his hot cheeks. “I don’t know if I can.”

  Liam and Danielle sat Louis down on the sofa between the two of them and he was handed a mug of tea, clutching it between his fingers and blowing the steam away from his face as he brought it to his lips. Tender strokes down the side of his arm subsided the cries he muffled with the palm of his hand. The contortion of his features fell with acquired emotional sobriety, and he scrubbed the tears away. Louis stiffened and straightened up when he came to his senses and set his tea down.

  “I have to go talk to Harry,” he breathed. Liam ran his hand down Louis’ back once more for comfort before helping him up and walking him to the door. Louis hugged him again, breathing out onto Liam’s collarbone.

  “I’ll be around tomorrow b’fore you leave. I’ll walk you to the Civil Defense Services department,” Liam promised into his ear. With that, Louis stepped out the door and down the porch steps, making his way to Harry’s, just past the bend on the next street over.

~

  “Back so soon, Louis?” Anne smiled as she opened the door after Louis’ panicked knocks. He remembered faintly that yes, he did officially meet Harry’s mother just a few hours earlier, but now in the dark of the night he felt as if that afternoon was a distant time ago.

  “Oh, um, yes. I guess so,” he stuttered before running a hand through his fringed hair and pushing it all off his forehead. His palms were clammy, so he desperately hoped she didn’t reach out to recompense for the welcoming gesture of a handshake she tried for earlier. “Can I see Harry, if that’s possible?”

  “I’m afraid he’s gone to bed a bit early tonight, sorry about that Louis. You’re welcome to come back tomorrow, though.” It looked like her grin was unfaltering, as despite the gloomy look drawn upon Louis’ face, she just kept up with the enthusiasm.

  “I’m really sorry Mrs. Styles—” Louis began before she interjected.

  “Cox, actually. But please just call me Anne.”

  “Right, Anne. I’m really sorry, but this is really important. I wouldn’t be bothering you this late at night if it were nothing.” Louis’ voice cracked before he went on. “I  _need_  to see him.”

  She hesitated, assessing the look in his eyes, noticing the glisten that seemed to appear with his pleas. Before she could say anything he pulled the letter from his pocket, unfolded it, and showed it to her. Her eyes skimmed it quickly and she swallowed thickly before nodding. Of course she’d understand, as she received news about the loss of her husband in the same war roughly a year ago. “I’ll go get him for you Louis,” she said, sadness creeping into her voice. This time it was Louis’ turn to do the nodding.

  Louis could hear the sound of Harry’s feet shuffling one after the other down the stairs. When he reached the doorway where Louis stood with his hands clasped together behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls and heals of his feet, Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked a couple times.

  “Uh, Lou?” Harry croaked, his voice thick and gravelly.

  “Can we, uh, go for a walk?” Louis opted, grabbing Harry by the hand. Slipping his shoes on and shutting the door behind him, Harry followed Louis outside and to the streets. A scampering dog came trotting over, his tongue hanging out of his mouth lazily and Louis bent down and stroked back his fur just once, saying, “Not now Skip, go on now boy.”

  “Rejecting the love of your life—I mean—my dog? How serious  _is_  this?” Harry joked. When he didn’t see a smile creep across Louis’ face to mimic his own, his face fell slack too, all traces of light-heartedness retreating. “Seriously Louis, talk to me.”

  “I will, just wait. I want to take you somewhere first,” Louis explained. One hand was shoved into the pocket of his trousers for warmth, and the other was twined with Harry’s, swaying between the two of them as they walked a quick pace through the wind chilled air.

  “Where’re we going?”

  “Surprise.”

  “I love surprises.”

  “I know.” Louis said cheekily, because well, after two years of being with him, Louis did know that Harry had a thing for the element of surprise. “But I’m not quite sure how much you’re going to like this one.”

  “I love everything you do for me.” Harry assured. Louis couldn’t help but think that this surprise hadn’t anything to do with him doing something for Harry. He forced the corners of his lips to twitch upward just for a second, flashing Harry a hint of admiration.

  Mid-September leaves on the ground crunched dully beneath their feet as they walked roadside right past the turn off into town. Harry looked puzzled for a moment but Louis assured him that he knew where he’s going. Harry squeezed Louis’ hand when Louis became frigid, his thoughts quaking around and making him anxious. They finally turned down an old back road, and it wasn’t not surprising that their shadows were cast as stark silhouettes against the dirt street by the moonlight. There were broken pieces of glass mixed in with the dust and the pebbles they were walking on, and it seemed to Harry that no one’d been down this street for quite some time. He was right, of course, but Louis didn’t tell him that. When they finally reached the end of the road, there was nothing there.

  “Where the hell are we?” Harry asked as he came to a river that cut them off.

  “To your right,” Louis pointed to a drive way and Harry glanced down as far as he could see. The drive curved here and there, and ended at the entrance to what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. Harry didn’t ask any questions, claiming he’d go anywhere as long as it was with Louis. They made their way down the crooked drive and to the entrance of the warehouse, where the panelled door slid open horizontally, dust jumping out and dancing in the air from the commotion.

  The inside was old and there were drapes hung off of old crates, and a couple of candles placed around on old wooden surfaces. Louis picked up a matchbox that was on one of the crates, and sparked it to life, lighting up some of the candles. He shuffled across the room in the dim light and struck another match, and soon each candle wick had a live flame and the faces of Harry and Louis were both visible to each other. The shadows of the candles flickered across their pale skin and they shrugged out of their jackets, now that they were shielded from the wind.

  “How did you know about this place?” Harry asked, as his eyes scanned over the big empty room, taking in the sight of each dust mote that drifted through the air between them.

  “Liam and I used to come here when we were kids; I actually haven’t been back here since the twins were born, at least. It was sheer hope and luck that our old candles and matches were still lying around.” Louis let out a hesitant laugh, and Harry guessed it took a lot to put it there, though he didn’t exactly know why yet.

  Louis picked up one of the tarps from on top of a nearby crate and unfolded it, lying it on the floor so they had something to sit on. Louis was the first to drop to his knees on the hard floor and fall back so he was sitting cross legged, and Harry quickly did the same.

  Louis maneuvered so he had access to his pocket to pull out the crumpled letter, unfolding the worn paper for the last time tonight. He opened his mouth to explain, but hesitated and found himself looking up to gauge Harry’s face.

  “Is that…?” Was all Harry could manage. He didn’t even give Louis time to confirm that it was indeed a conscription letter; he just balled his hands into fists in his lap. “When do you go out?”

  “Tomorrow. Nine o’clock.”

  Louis didn’t have any idea how Harry would take this. He mentally prepped himself for tears or anger or even silence the whole walk here, figuring that Harry would take it horribly. What he didn’t think to prepare himself for was two strong hands clutching onto the frame of his shoulders and the pinkest of lips overlapping his own.

  “Harry?” Louis sputtered out between frantic kisses that he didn’t hesitate to return. Harry’s lips and tongue trailed down his neck and found a nice place along his collarbone to kiss bruises into. “No. Wait, Harry, what are you even—”

  “Shh,” Harry hissed, pressing his lips to the base of Louis’ neck. “Just go with it. Please?”

  Louis’ palms found Harry’s cheeks and he took his face in his hands, moving to look him in the eyes. Green melted into a vast of blue, a film of worry bedding the both of their glances.

  Harry blinked first and whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “I want to be  _with_  you, Louis.” Harry pleaded. Before Louis has time to catch on, Harry continued. “What if you don’t come back to me?”

  “I promise—”

  “Yeah, my dad promised too.” Harry was overwhelmed and hurt and already feeling lonely, pain inflaming the deepest part of his chest. “I want to be yours, Louis, and I want you to be mine. Tonight.”

  Harry sat expectantly on his knees with his arms outstretched in a half-reach for Louis in front of him. He wanted to savour their last night together and bid him goodbye properly, the both of them fully knowing that they were in the most profound love they’d ever experience. A little nervous cough sounded from the back of Louis’ throat, and Harry pleaded once more.

  “Make love to me.”

  Louis’ mind was flurried and flustered, and pink crept up his cheeks, though it was barely noticeable in the flickering candle light around them. There, on the drawn out canvas tarp, with particles of dust falling from the wood and the tapestry, Louis and Harry set all obscurities aside and forgot about what was to come in the morning, divulging in each other.

  Harry’s puckered and chapped lips slotted between Louis’ and curved into a half smile at the taste and sensation of the boy he loved and needed and wanted forever. Louis tasted like sweetness and lemonade, and his lips were soft and slow against Harry’s hasty, forceful lips. Louis’ tongue swiped out and traced over Harry’s teeth. Languid and wet, they continued to mesh together, Louis trailing his lips to nip and nibble at Harry’s earlobe, rather than part to take a breather.

  Harry’s hands searched and found the hem of Louis’ shirt, and he fisted it tightly until his knuckles were turning white. He relented, loosening his grip to pull the fitted fabric up and over Louis’ head. Louis’ fingers found the top button of Harry’s shirt at the collar, fumbling over it until it was undone. He trailed his fingertip downward, relishing the feel of Harry’s chest until each of the buttons were unfastened and the pads of Louis’ fingers pressed into the warm, bare skin just beneath his rib cage, causing an involuntary noise of approval to stem from the back of Harry’s throat. Louis pulled the shirt back from Harry’s shoulders and it slid down the length of his arms until it fell the short distance to the floor, quaking the dust that had settled there.

  Their mouths found each other once again and began moving in unison, their tongues versatile. switching back between teasing and smoothing over the other. Harry’s hands wrapped around Louis’ middle, pulling him in close, right up against himself, and he could feel Louis’ heartbeat thundering against his own chest. His hands slipped down Louis’ back softly, leaving a hot trail that lingered over his skin.

Harry’s fingers tucked under the waist line of Louis’ trousers and a shudder rolled down his spine, their hips nudging together lightly. Curls were twined within the grip of one of Louis’ hands as his fingers clenched around Harry’s hair, moving slightly, massaging at the roots; the stimulating motion had Harry pining for more. Harry’s back arched so the heated skin of his cheek was pressed against Louis’ neck, his hands still moving lackadaisically around the hem of his trousers until he thumbed over the clasp with one hand and tugged a finger through one of the belt loops with the other.

  With a flick of his wrist, the clasp was undone, and Louis itched to be out of them as he felt the weight of his stiffening member in his knickers. Harry’s lips and tongue left a slick trail down to the base of Louis’ neck where he sucked at the tender skin as his hands moved to push Louis’ trousers to his knees at the floor, where he disposed of them with a kick. Without a moment’s wait, Harry reached for his own slacks, popping the button undone with one swift movement and shimmying out of them in a bunch of little not-so-swift movements, shifting his weight from left to right until they were rung around his ankles and he kicked them away.

  “Slow down babe,” Louis cooed into the crook of Harry’s neck, his lips grazing over the skin there ever so softly. They had all night and Harry seemed a bit caught up in his rush.

  “Want you—” Harry whispered in response, his voice breaking off.

  A little giggle bubbled in Louis’ chest because yeah, he knew how badly Harry wanted this, because he did too. But Harry seemed a bit desperate with each touch and kiss, whereas Louis, although he was equally as desperate to share this with Harry, wanted to take his time and truly show him how much he loved him.

  Without another word, Louis placed his hands on either of Harry’s shoulders, climbing over him and lying him down so he was on his back and he was sat on Harry’s hips, straddling the sides of his waist. As he bent to press their lips feverishly together again, a long silver chain dangled from Louis’ neck; the cold metal lying cold and flat against Harry’s chest. Harry’s hands found Louis’ and they carded their fingers together.

  Louis’ hips circled around once, then twice, grinding down on Harry’s crotch. The friction elicited a throaty noise from Harry that reverberated in the air between the two of them, and Louis felt slightly indulgent, wanting to feel Harry squirm below him and whimper once more. Forcing himself down with a pelvic thrust against the sizable bulge in Harry’s briefs, Louis felt Harry’s fingernails dig into his sides, carving crescent moons there.

  Louis shuffled off the younger boy’s waist, took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through his hair. Harry moved to palm himself over once or twice, his eyes half-lidded with lust and desire, and Louis found himself forgetting to breathe.

  “C’mere baby.” He opened his arms and reached out for Harry, who sat up, limbs outstretched and needy. Louis pulled at the waistband of Harry’s underwear, taking them off and tossing the garment aside; doing the same with his own. Louis’ voice was like honey: thick and rich and smoothing over his words. “Turn around for me?”

  Harry did just so, of course, pivoting on his knees so his back was lined up with his boyfriend’s chest. Louis bent them so Harry’s weight was on the palms of his hands against the coarse canvased floorboards.

  Starting at the nape of Harry’s neck, Louis peppered kisses down his back, stopping to bite down sensually between his shoulder blades. Leaving lip tracks and hot breath in his wake, he proceeded downward, placing a kiss on each indent at the small of Harry’s back. After pressing bruises where he gripped Harry’s sides at his rib cage, Louis’ hands ran down the length of his back, fingers brushing over each dip and definition down the column of Harry’s spine.

  Louis moved to part Harry’s legs a little further and he grasped the cheeks of his arse, pervading gently until he had sufficient access. Harry tensed at the wet sensation of Louis’ tongue as he licked a stripe along the inside, fighting back the reflex to jump in startle.

  “It’s okay,” Louis whispered, assuring him.

  “I love you,” Harry allowed.

  “Love you too,” he mumbled back into his skin.

  Louis nudged back in, placing a kiss over the hole. His tongue curved around before licking into the tight opening, pushing and swirling a bit. Harry’s knees buckled beneath him in pleasure as Louis’ tongue explored around, hot and wet.

  He reached forward, extending out to Harry’s mouth so he could suck on his fingers. Harry’s tongue ran over Louis’ fingers thoroughly as he continued to suck at his entrance with pursed lips, his tongue teasing around. As soon as he deemed them slick enough, he brought a single digit to the Harry’s hole, lapping around the sides with his tongue as he pushed in.

  Louis’ finger gradually crept in farther, making sure to take it slowly for Harry’s benefit. Each motion was done passionately and in love, keeping the discomfort at a minimum for the both of them. When he was knuckle deep he pulled it out for a fraction of a second, and Harry wined to have the contact back. Louis fell into a simple rhythm, the tip of his tongue still prodding around the walls.

  A second finger drew up to trace right beneath the first, nudging softly before advancing in. As soon as Louis had two fingers working comfortably for Harry, he began scissoring them to stretch him open, Harry wincing only once at the sudden change in movement. Louis licked over once more before moving to nip at the skin of Harry’s back with his teeth before his third finger slid in effortlessly, working around and curling to stroke over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making Harry cry out.

  “Louis, please—” Harry’s voice was jagged and it broke off as a whine built up and fled off his tongue.

  Louis’ hands brushed over Harry’s skin gently, turning him back around and lying him flat on his back. He made sure Harry’s entrance was coated in a wet layer of spit, slick and lubricated. “S’gonna hurt a bit, but we’ll go slow. Tell me if you need me to stop,” Louis coaxed. He braced the inside of Harry’s thighs with the warm palms of his hands, spreading them apart. He hummed something or other about Harry looking beautiful laid out for him like this.

  Harry swallowed thickly as Louis lined himself up, pushing the tip of the head in achingly slow. A grimace flashed across Harry’s face before he masked it, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Louis stayed still for a moment until he felt Harry loosen a bit, lying less tense and frigid beneath him. He started pushing in farther and Harry’s hands flew up and gripped Louis’ biceps, littering shadow-like bruises over the muscles there. Louis was all the way in when Harry choked out for him to stop, feeling stretched and a bit uncomfortable.

  “R’you okay?” Louis asked, wondering at what point his words started to blend together like that. Louis balanced himself on the palm of one hand, reaching with his other to stroke over Harry’s cheekbone where an eyelash had fallen astray. Blush crept under Louis’ touch, painting his cheeks pink.

  Just as drunk on love and lust, Harry huffed out, “m’fine,” in the same slurred speech. “Move.”

  On Harry’s instruction Louis’ hips pulled back and propelled forward again, Harry sucking in a sharp breath. A less contrived frequency fell into place after the first couple of slow and untimely thrusts, becoming a rather steadfast and natural rhythm of Louis’ hips snapping and Harry clenching around him.

  Harry’s eyes stayed shut, the very tips of his pretty eyelashes splayed out. Louis took note of the way each emotion and each sense of feeling flickered across Harry’s face, truly looking his most vulnerable. A string of obscene noises and curses escaped Harry’s lips; a fallacy to his own, however Louis found each choked swear or clamour incredibly hot as it rang in his ears.

  He dipped down again, and Harry clutched at the familiar chain necklace that danced from Louis’ neck, ricocheting off his collarbones. He tugged at the chain, pulling Louis low enough that their sweat-sheened bodies were pressed together, and he felt the guttural groan that racked Louis’ chest against his own. Their lips, already reddened and swollen, craved to be kissed again and Louis licked into Harry’s mouth, and swallowed his moans. Harry sank his teeth into Louis’ bottom lip, tasting an influx of salt and metal as he broke skin.

  The sparks between the two of them coursed through his veins, and, by now, he was thrusting down to meet Louis at the hips, desperate to feel the deepest collision of their bodies. Louis’s hips twitched, the new angle allowing him to hit Harry’s prostate, the sweet spot ripping a choked, “again—oh, fuck—again—” hoarsely from the back of his throat.

  Louis’ hips bucked repeatedly, thrashing into the same spot over again as Harry writhed beneath him, slurring out profanities. They moved in perfect synchronization, bodies knocking and skin sliding and fingers tangling. Louis’ lips pressed a messy kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, tracking their way down to nibble at his jaw before he pleaded, “Louis please, I, Louis—”

  “Wha—?” Louis’ voice broke off unexpectedly, the rest of the question left on the tip of his tongue.

  “Touch me,” Harry breathed, “please.”

  Louis’ hand searched between the two of them, where Harry’s hips pressed up against his middle to feel the friction against his aching cock. He fisted around the shaft, earning a gasp from Harry, and began stroking in time with his thrusts. “This good baby?” Louis’ broken voice asked, adoration seeping in through the cracks. Harry just nodded stiffly, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

  Louis’ hand fondled the head, teasing, and a whimper escaped Harry’s lips. White hot pleasure coursed within him, electrifying every nerve ending like a live wire in his body. He felt his orgasm build up in the pit of his stomach, and his pelvis lurched into Louis’ grasp, desperate for his touch to finish him off. “Louis, m’close,” whined Harry. “So close.”

  Louis’ hips jerked, hitting that bundle of nerves once more as his thumb simultaneously smoothed over the slit with the final stroke and Harry was spurting strings of white into Louis’ hand and messily glazing between their chests. The sight of Harry in this euphoric state; face contorted by pleasure, intoxicated by love and feeling, pulled off and absorbed into his own world had charged the arousal within Louis and it became too much for him as well as he spilled into Harry, his steady movements slowing down as he rode out his orgasm before ceasing and pulling out.

  Louis rolled over to lay next to Harry on the canvas tarp, his body falling slack against the floor. The only sounds in the warehouse were the huffed breaths straining from both of them as their chests rose and fell out of sync. Harry turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Louis. His fingers skittered across Louis’ bare chest, tracing invisible patterns into his skin and stumbling over the metal dog tagged chain around his neck.

  “Where’d you get your chain from?” Harry murmured, his voice soft and velvety. He picked up the metal tag and thumbed over the  _L_  engraved in it before clasping it in the palm of his hand. Louis’ eyes were blue like sapphires and they glimmered as he stared off at nothing in particular, concentrating, or remembering, rather.

  “Funny story, I found it here, actually,” said Louis. “It was blank when I found it. Liam and I scratched the  _L_  into it ourselves. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

   A crease formed between Harry’s brows as they furrowed in thought. Louis cherished the chain and the memories it held, so why hadn’t he showed it to him, and let him appreciate the sentiment with him? “I’ve only seen it a few times before,” Harry commented, recalling the rare times in the past where he caught glance of it. Now, when they’d gone swimming down at the lake, and the one morning they’d bathed together. He couldn’t think of any others.

  “I s’pose that’s because it’s always tucked under my shirt.” Louis’ shifted from where he’d been settled, reaching around his neck to pull off the chain. He held it out in from of Harry, putting it on around his neck so the dog tag dangled between his collarbones. “I want you to wear it.”

  “But—” Harry opened his mouth to say something sensible about how Louis loved this necklace and wore it every day and how he simply  _had_  to wear it with him under his uniform or else it just wouldn’t be right, but Louis cut him off.

  “To remind you of me; don’t want you forgetting about me while I’m away,” Louis teased, warmth spreading from his heart and through his chest, milking its way through his entire body, drawn out on the tarp there. Harry’s hand clasped around the cold metal now hanging from around his own neck, and he felt overwhelmed and he suddenly worried that his heart might explode.

  “I don’t want you to leave.” He pouted, biting at his bottom lip.

  “Don’t take that off and it’ll be like I never left. You won’t even have time to miss me,” Louis’ words had no hint of truth behind them, as Harry undoubtedly began to miss him already, just thinking about him going off. But his words were also a promise, and Harry wanted to cling to that promise; envisioning Louis coming back, hair cropped and uniform narrowed against the frame of his body; never having to experience the pain of truly missing Louis Tomlinson.

  Heavy lidded and comforted by silence, their eyes fluttered shut and they drifted off into a cozy sleep, the only noises floundering around the warehouse was their steady, yet untimely breathing. It was a dreamless sleep for the both of them, no dreams visioning behind the lids of their eyes, no imaginative life wasting away their unconscious hours.

~

  “Shit! You idiots, wake up!” A voice shouted from nearby, stirring Louis in his restlessness.

  “Go away.” He grumbled, turning over to reach for a blanket to snuggle further into.

  “Put some freaking clothes on, god damn,” the familiar voice hissed. Louis couldn’t place who it was, still being half asleep and all, and he wasn’t about to open his eyes to check on this lovely morning. “Louis!”

  Alarm rang through the throaty outburst, and Louis finally looked to find the source of desperation. It was just Liam. Particles of dust came into view as they drifted carelessly through the sunlight that shone through the cracks in the wooden planked walls. Floating dust motes? Wooden planked walls? He looked around him and—holy shit he had to be at the Civil Defense Services department at nine o’clock in the morning.

  “What time is it?” He croaked, his voice still thick with sleep. He jumped to his feet, now realising that he was still naked, Liam tossing him his clothes from across the room with a rather exaggerated grimace. He pulled the watch from his pocket to check the time as Louis almost toppled over trying to shimmy his way into a pair of trousers. “These are Harry’s you dolt!”

  “It’s almost eight thirty, and don’t call me a dolt, you dolt!” Liam shot back with extensive creativity. He threw him the right clothes and shook Harry awake, a more difficult task than he would’ve thought. “Jesus the kid sleeps deeper than you!”

  “I know. Sleeps like a rock,” Louis laughed, sliding a shirt on over his head.

  “I heard that.” Harry’s voice was deep and sleepy and he rubbed at his eyes to wake himself up.

  “Love you,” Louis cooed, throwing clothes at him. “Now get dressed, and hurry, we’re—shit—running late!” He stumbled over his words as he tried to slip into his shoes, tripping over the lace.

  Harry got up and threw his clothes on hastily, running his fingers through his mess of hair. His fingers found the chain around his neck that burned a hole through him as it weighted there. He fumbled over it, his stomaching flipping over both the fact that Louis gave it to him and  _why_  Louis gave it to him. Both completely different types of nervousness, of course.

  “Hey Li?” Louis voiced, and Liam’s head cocked toward him from where he was, blowing out the old candles. “How’d you know to find us here?”

  “I was at your house this morning to see you before taking you over there and your mum said you didn’t come home last night. By the way, she’s worried as hell. And you’re dad’s home.”

  “Well isn’t that just fucking great,” he snapped.

  “Yeah, so I basically spent the morning running around looking for you—checked Harry’s house, the dock, the shop, the factory—before realising that  _of course_  you’d be here. Now c’mon, move it, you can’t be late.”

  “Yes Mister Punctual.” Louis sneered. “We have to stop at home first, I need to say goodbye to my sisters. Let’s go.”

  They took their leave with a sprint, taking the shortcut and running through the planes of grass rather than the back roads. By the time they got into the city they were out of breath, but they made it back to Louis’ house.

  “M’gonna go check in with Mum, and err, change. Meet you back here in a few,” Harry murmured.

  “No,” Louis said. “Just go home, okay? Get changed, make sure your mum knows you’re fine, and stay there with her.”

  “But Louis, I—”

  “Liam’ll walk with me. Please, Harry.”

  Harry’s green eyes pooled, overflowing as a tear trickled down one of his flushed cheeks. “No Louis, I want to—have to.”

  “If you’re there I won’t leave. So please Harry, just go home. Look after yourself, ‘kay? Remember everything you promised me?” and Harry nodded, his head hanging heavily with great sadness. “I love you.”

  Louis looked over his shoulder before putting a finger under Harry’s chin and lifting to look him in the eyes before pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. Terror struck when he realised that may be the last time he’ll ever get to feel Harry’s lips against his own ever again.

  “I lo—” Louis smothered Harry’s mouth with one more kiss before he could finish speaking.

  “I’ll try to write.” Louis promised, before spinning Harry on his feet and setting him off in the general direction of his house. “Give Skip a good scratch behind the ears for me!”

  It was a quick goodbye, but Louis didn’t want Harry to see him cry. He knew that once he latched onto him and stained his shirt with his tears that there was no way he could leave him. He needed to be strong, or at least seem strong for Harry. So that’s what he did, he put on a brave face, just like he would have to out on the battlefield, and it was all for Harry. If Louis was in the right mind to look back on the two years he’s been with Harry, he would have realised that his whole life has adapted to doing everything out of love for Harry. Sure, there was his tacit responsibility for his sisters whom he adored; but almost every underlying thought and every event in the sequence of his day was related to Harry because Louis really didn’t live for himself anymore, he lived for those he cherished in the depths of his heart.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Louis’ shoulders quaked with his pained sobs. Liam snaked his arms around him in a fortifying hug, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Go inside Lou, I’ll wait out here.”

  He rubbed his eyes dry and made his way to the door. He was in the house for a fraction of the second before all four sisters threw themselves at him, hugging his waist and legs. He bent down, placing a kiss on their cheeks and wrapping his arms around all four of them.

  “Don’t be gone for long,” one little voice begged.

  “Take care of yourself, Lou,” another instructed.

  “I’ll miss you,” they all chimed, hesitancy in the deepest sonants of their voices. “We love you.”

  “I’m gonna miss you lot too,” his voice cracked and broke off and he forced a watery smile before finishing up his last of goodbyes to the girls, patting the tops of each of their heads before fleeting to the kitchen.

  His father sat at the old table, drinking amber liquid that smelled like floor polish, spinning circles around in the clear glass by flicking his wrist. Louis cleared his throat, getting the old man’s attention. He looked up, a film of emptiness hovering dully over his reddened eyes.

  “You won’t touch those girls while I’m gone, understood?” Louis’ voice was assertive; it was a burst that ripped its way from the back of his throat unintentionally, as he didn’t actually plan to say anything at all.

  “Don’t speak that way to me.” His father’s shoulders stiffened with the aggression behind his words. “You show your old man respect.”

  “If you so much as lay a hand on them so help me god—” Louis cut himself off as Daisy ran into the room, clutching at his leg once more. He picked her up off the ground, spun away from the face of his father that he detested with every fiber of his being, and he kissed his mother goodbye and told her he loved her.

  “Were you and daddy gonna fight again?” Daisy asked as he made his way back to the front door where the other three girls waited for him.

  “No, Dais. We weren’t going to  _fight_. Now listen to me, okay? If he ever gets into one of his moods—like the other night, when he hit Phoebe, I mean—go right to Cher’s next door, you hear me? Have her take you to Liam’s house or something.” Louis instructed carefully before grabbing his jacket off the rack. “Oh! You girls remember Harry, right?”

  “Curls?” They asked. “Dimples?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. He might stop by every once in a while to check up, ‘kay? He knows how much you mean to me—and that means a lot to him, so he’ll be looking out.” Louis’ eyes squinted with affection as he spoke about Harry, and as subtle as he tried to be, it wasn’t a shock when Lottie had a smirk written about her face, though she knew better than to voice this little observation of hers.

  “Can we play with him Louis?” One of them asked, before another added, “yeah, can he come over?”

  “Sure thing, lovebugs. Braid his hair, jump on his back, the whole bit.” He smiled. “Now I’ve got to head out or I’ll be late. One last kiss please,” he asked, behind back down so all four of them could place little pecks on the rose of his cheeks.

  And that was that. He was headed out the door and down the porch steps where he met up with Liam on the front lawn. Four little girls had their faces pressed up against the window, a mother shuffling over to the open front door—all watching him walk away—and a father pouring another glass of whiskey.

~

  A tall man with a shaved head, thick caterpillar eyebrows, and a green uniform held a sheet of paper and a graphite pencil out in front of him. The badge over the pocket on the right breast of his shirt was shiny and intimidating, and there was no name tag so Louis hadn’t a clue what to address him by. The man had brawn the size of Louis’ head, his biceps stretching out and curling around until they blended into his triceps; Louis just couldn’t get over how big his arms were. His chest was full too—his entire body proportionate to his oversized arms. His posture was perfect, his stance was perfect, everything about him had been critiqued until his appearance was flawless and it was almost as if he was handcrafted by the corps themselves.

  “Name.” Louis was sure it was a question, but the man bellowed it out like a demand to know the information. Then again, he had been conscripted and was being forced into the forces, so perhaps he was demanding.

  “Louis Tomlinson, Sir.” His voice sounded high pitched and whimpery compared to the man’s vibrating baritone.

  “Age.”

  “Um, I’m nineteen, Sir.” It was almost shameful how cowardice he sounded.

  “Height.”

  “Five foot, nine inches,” Louis tried to sound just as unimpressed with his answer, trying to mimic the man, but that only got him a glare from the black margins of his eyes. He gulped before tacking on, “Sir.”

  “Step on this scale please.”

  Louis almost tripped onto the base of the scale, but he caught his balance and watched the needle waver before it landed on exactly sixty-eight kilograms, which the man scratched onto the sheet as well. His record file was closed and handed to a woman behind the desk to their left where she filed it away in her cabinet in the third drawer under the  _T_ ’s. Without a word to excuse himself, the man set off on foot, and Louis opened his mouth to ask if he should follow, however, unsure of himself, he shut it quickly, the sound of his teeth clattering back together reverberating in his ears.

  “He just went to grab your uniform, Mr. Tomlinson. You can have a seat for now,” the sweet old lady behind the desk explained, and so Louis nodded to her in recognition before turning to have a seat in one of the rickety metal chairs nearby.

  Looking around, Louis noticed that the place was packed. There were various men of different shapes, ages, and social statuses standing around being weighed or showing their birth records or having their uniforms tailored. He was one of them, one of the men now. He’d taken into account that he knew some of the men there today who were being prepped to head out onto the battlefield. Some men in the room with him now may never come back. Harry’s dad hadn’t. What if he didn’t?

  “Step behind that curtain and put this on,” the overtly large man instructed. “It may need to be hemmed to your length, so come back and the tailor will take care of that.”

  Louis nodded before grabbing the crisply folded uniform from the palm of the man’s hand, and walked behind the black curtain where there were currently two other men changing as well. He slid his legs in first, and then his arms, finally doing up the buttons down the front of the one piece. It was a dull grey-green, and the arms were cuffed at the wrists perfectly. However, Louis’ always had somewhat shorter legs and so just as he’d expected, the trouser legs were a few inches too long.

  The tailor wasn’t big and buff like the other man had been; he was much shorter and leaner, quite lanky really, and he wore glasses and black slacks and a measuring tape around his neck. He stuttered over his words and that made Louis feel a bit better about his self, as he did too.

  He could hear people chatting and pep-talking each other all around the department room:

_Nervousness, of course, would get you nowhere but dead in a battle._

_You can’t be afraid to shoot your gun._

_You can’t be afraid of a man with a gun, because that shows you’re vulnerable and an easy target._

_Quick step. Watch out for land mines._

_Don’t try to be the hero._

_Use your strengths._

_Strategize._

_Everything is mapped; don’t go anywhere without a map._

_Listen to your base’s radio for new signals and codes._

_Abide by every rule and instruction your Sergeant lays out for you._

_Do not, for the love of god, reassign yourself to anything._

  It took about a half an hour before Louis was finally suited up. The uniform was made of a coarse material that would keep out the cold without letting the heat escape. It reminded Louis a lot of the canvas he’d slept on last night. He was given a pair of black boots that he laced up nice and tight. Next they gave him a heavy vest that he slid over both arms and fastened in the front. There were loops in this vest, and each loop had a string of extra ammunition held within it. One of the loops held a pinned grenade. The front of the vest had two large pouches in the front; one contained a hand pistol, and the other a dangerously sharp knife. They handed him a rock hard hat, which he strapped under his chin and finally, they handed him his rifle.

  “That’s more like it, Soldier,” said the man who still intimidated Louis, despite the fact that he suddenly began speaking to him with respect. “Tomlinson, right? Looks like your infantry is out in France.”

  “France?” Louis asked, his voice still peculiarly worrisome. Could you blame him?

  “Battle of Somme. Been goin’ on since July. Go out the doors you came in and there should be a truck waiting for you out there with a group of men ready to be on their way. Meet the troops in France, they’ll get you accustomed to using this thing,” he set a hand on the rifle, on the roof over the trigger. “Just remember, always lis—”

  “Listen to the Sergeant. Got that.” Louis stated, though he wasn’t sure he should have cut him off like that.

  “Good luck out there, kid.”

  Louis tipped his hat off to him before making his way out the front door, rifle in hand. Liam was still waiting around out there, and to his surprise, Danielle had joined him.

  “Holy shit Lou, look at you!” Liam said, trying to look at this as optimistically as he could. “That looks awesome! You’re holding a gun!”

  “Yeah Li, they’re trucking me out to Somme. I get to go to France to kill a bunch of men with families. Awesome,” he deadpanned. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the support Liam was giving him; he just didn’t see a silver lining. “Better yet, they get to try and kill me!”

  “You’ll do great out there, Louis. Just take care of yourself for us. And for Harry,” Danielle said, taking his free hand in both of hers. Louis pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning to give Liam one last hug.

  “Teach Harry how to fish properly while I’m gone, yeah?” He laughed into Liam’s shoulder.

  “I don’t work miracles, Lou,” Liam smiled before adding on, “see you soon, mate.”

  “Love you, buddy.” And Louis turned for the truck behind him where he climbed in the back, making himself somewhat comfortable on the bed squished between the other men. Someone banged on the truck’s side, signaling the driver to take off.

  Louis waved out to Liam and Danielle, who stood there wiping their eyes dry, and he took off down the dust and gravel roads for France, where life or death awaited him.

 


	4. chapter four, part one: harry's pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a really long time to get out and to be honest i don't have a valid excuse other than the fact that i have been working on something else as well, which i'll also be posting soon if you're interested~  
> anywho, i tried to make this feelgood.....but.......i'm sorry the fic writes itself ok i just do the typing  
> i don't think it's really all that bad, but my lovely beta did say "let me just go vomit my own tears okay bye" so there's that  
> ok i'm not really helping anything here so just go ahead and read now

  It’d been a week; a week since Harry had last looked into those eyes, kissed those lips, felt warm in those arms; a week since Harry had last felt Louis’ pulse hammer within his chest, beats skipping and spluttering as he placed his hand over his heart. It’d been a week since Harry had gotten a good night’s sleep, knowing that Louis was safe. It’d been a week since Harry had last been, well,  _Harry_.

  As it turns out, Harry’s life had been severely altered as well. Quite frankly this isn’t a surprise, he figures, though he’s just catching the grasp of it now. He never realised just how much he was around Louis or doing things for Louis or with Louis or because of Louis. Louis, Louis, Louis. His life was rather empty now, as he strolled back into the house each morning after delivering the daily tribune. He wasn’t met at the door with a kiss, his hair wasn’t often played with, and there were no tickle fights that ended up with one of them on top of the other and their hands exploring each other’s skin. He tried to keep his mind from worrying too much, but his thoughts swirl and splay and take on their own in the abundance of time he sits around doing  _nothing_. He’s spent the past week in utter devastation.

  This morning he woke to the aroma of fresh bread and citrusy tea as the smell wafted through the whole house. His mum must’ve gotten up bright and early that morning with the urge to bake. She described it as more of a desire, but it was an urge nonetheless. He padded down the hall, his bare feet sliding against the rough wooden floorboards until he entered the kitchen where he found Anne leaning against the countertop with a hand sewn floral apron tied around her waist.

  “How long have you been up?” He asked, taking a seat on one of the old wooden dining chairs. He sat with his elbows on the table and propped his head up on the palm of his hand. Stray curls and waves were sticking up every which way, looking slightly ridiculous.

  “I thought I’d spend my day off doing something I love. Maybe you should too, huh bedhead?” Anne humoured. “Might do you some good.”

  “Guess I’ve kind of been moping for a while, haven’t I?”

  “I know it’s been rough, Harry, after what happened with your father. But you’ve got to have a little faith, love. Your friend will come back a hero,” Anne gave a watery smile to follow her words and she strode across the room to Harry’s side, smoothing back some of the floppy curls that had fallen over his eyes.

  Harry’s shoulders slouched with the weight of the world on them. He was almost angry that his mother was trying to comfort him. She knew exactly how it felt to lose the one you love all because they were paying an honourable service. It wasn’t something you just get over, or grieve and forget, for that matter. It’s been just a little over a year since they’d planned and attended his father’s funeral, and to this very day Harry is sometimes woken in the middle of the night by the sound of his mother crying from the next room over.

  But then again Harry’s frustration is nothing more than a futile strain, as his mum was just trying to comfort him, not knowing the whole truth behind what Louis and his absence meant to him. His frown deepened and Anne stroked down his back in comfort, but he just shook the gentle touch from his frame.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he breathed, leaving his mother alone in the kitchen as he made his way back to his room.

~

  Harry had successfully spent an entire afternoon sulking in his room, loathing the world and everything that was unfair when he was stirred from where he’d been lost in his conscious mind by a couple knocks out of any particular rhythm on his closed door. He didn’t bother to call out anything close to an answer or a welcome, he just made somewhat of a groan that was muffled by his sheets. That was enough for his mum though, as she jumped on the opportunity to slip into the room.

  “I made your favourite,” Anne allured, holding out a plate of cookies.

  “Shortbread biscuits?”

  “Guess you’ll have to see for yourself,” she sneered.

  He poked his head out from behind the comforter, his hair still standing up in odd places and she took a seat on the edge of his bed as he shuffled and sat up, taking the plate from her hands. He bit into one of the rectangular cookies, finding out just how hot the fresh baked goods were. For a while they sat in a silence that was equally as comfortable as it was  _un_ comfortable, but Anne finally cleared her throat and he perked up, half a biscuit still crumbled in his mouth.

  “So…truce?” She wore a hopeful smile, and when he rolled his eyes she just gestured towards the plate of cookies again. He couldn’t refuse the silent offer though, so he plucked another, grasping it within his fingers before shrugging.

  “Guess so,” he shrugged. “I didn’t mean to get upset, mum, it’s just—”

  “He’s a friend, he means a lot to you, honey, I get that. You just can’t look at this from a bad point of view. It’s not like he’s doomed, baby. Fighting for your country is a good thing. The  _right_  thing. He’s out there protecting people like me and you.”

  Sure, she made a lot of sense, but Harry couldn’t help but feel in the deepest part of his heart that Louis had left him for good. What were the chances that he’d come back? Hell, as far as Harry was concerned, anyone who went off to war had put one foot in their grave. The whole idea made him sick to his stomach. How was he supposed to sit here for months and months on end, an anxious mess of himself, just waiting to hear the regretful news that Louis wouldn’t be coming home?

  After losing himself in his thoughts for a moment, Anne pat him on the knee and cleared the silence. “C’mon, let’s bake a cherry pie.”

  “Mum, wait,” Harry said before she had the chance to get up. She turned to look at him, her brows cocked up in question, and he just pulled her in for a hug. It was a moment that lingered, because to be quite honest, that’s what he needed. She smoothed a hand over the wrinkled shirt on his back and when he pulled away she grabbed him by the hands, pulling him off the bed. “Cherry pie it is, then.”

  So they set off for the kitchen, stopping only to pull the necessary ingredients from the pantry. An hour later they had flour smeared across their clothes and Harry had some dusted lightly on the tip of his nose. As Anne put the pie in the oven, Harry ran his fingers through his hair, watching a few flour particles fall to the ground at his feet.

  “I meant it earlier, you know.” Anne said softly, closing the oven door and flattening her apron against her thighs. Harry’s face morphed into a question mark as she spoke up out of the blue. “You should do something you’d enjoy.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed.

  “It’ll be good for you. How about you take a run down to your friend Liam’s? He’s friends with Louis too, right? I’m sure he’s in the same state you are.”

  “Not quite,” Harry sniped under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Oh, nothing, it’s just that Liam has Danielle. I bet he’s been a bit distracted,” Harry lied, rather  _un_ smoothly. Truth was, no one could be hurting like he was over Louis’ absence, because no one loved him like he did. Liam was probably in pretty rough shape, yes, but he didn’t have to fear the endangerment of the one he was supposed to give his forever to. Danielle was perfectly safe at home, and because they’d wed so young, Danielle didn’t have that problem to fret over either.

  “Lovebirds.” Anne hummed. “Danielle is such a sweetie. You’ll find yourself someone one day too, baby, and they’ll keep your mind from the things that hurt.”

  Harry didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the irony. The person who was supposed to be here making all his dreams come true was the same person who made a mess of his heart these past few days. His mum meant well though, so his lips formed into a flat line that he forced into a bit of a smile, nodding slightly as well.

  “Now go on, visit your friends,” Anne shooed him from the kitchen, and he did just that. After changing into some clean clothes, Harry grabbed his jacket from the coatrack and made his way out the door. He was going to do some visiting, alright.

~

  A couple blocks and a bend behind him later, Harry found himself knocking thrice against the solid wooden door. A few shrieking little voices could be heard from the other side of it, fighting over who gets to answer. Finally they’d come to some sort of agreement, apparently, and the door flung open, the hands of two identical little girls still latched onto the knob.

  “Hello girls,” Harry smiles. “Not sure if you remember who I am…”

  “Henry!” One of them shrieked before the other looked at her funny.

  “It’s  _Harry_ , stupid.”

  “Don’t call me stupid!”

  “Girls, enough of that!” Their mother called from the kitchen. She walked into the room, the skirt of her dress sweeping around her legs with each step. “Oh, who’s this?”

  “Harry!” The second girl informed, pausing to stick her tongue out at the other.

  “Hello, Mrs. Tomlinson. I’m Harry.” He finally greeted after the overwhelming welcome from the girls. In all honesty he couldn’t tell one apart from the other.

  “Nice to meet you, Harry,” she smiled. “But please, call me Jay.”

  “Will do,” he noted. The first twin reached out and grabbed Harry by the hand, pulling him into the house while the other twin closed the door behind him. “Chilly outside, isn’t it?”

  Jay nodded, but didn’t say anything further on the topic, opting to get right to the point with the strange young man still standing at the threshold. “So Harry, you seem like a lovely boy, you really do, but what is it you’re doing here? I don’t recall having met you before, though the girls seem to know you, even love you, I’d say.”

  “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I’m a friend of Louis’,” sadness that matched Harry’s own flickered in Jay’s eyes at the sound of her son’s name. “A really good friend, you could say.”

  “I’ve never heard him talk about you before,” Jay said, a little unsure of him. Harry nodded, as though he were expecting to hear that. He bit the worn corner of his lip, and Jay would swear she could see a tear brimming at his eye.

  “Right, well. He did ask me to come by and see the girls while he’s away, so, just fulfilling his wishes.” The lump in Harry’s throat bobbed with each word he spoke, and he swallowed, trying to clear the sadness from his voice.

  Just then, two other young girls came running down the stairs. One had long blonde hair, and the other had her dark hair tied back with a ribbon that matched the dress she wore. Charlotte, or Lottie, rather, was the older one that Louis talked most about. Felicity, otherwise referred to as Fizzy, being the younger. Fizzy froze by the steps at the sight of Harry, as with him he brought back memories of Louis and his goodbye. Lottie however strode right across the room when she saw him, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her head in the warmth of his chest. The hug was a shock, and Harry half expected her to pull away almost instantly, though he wasn’t alarmed when she stayed latched onto him until he could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through his shirt.

  “I just miss him so much,” she cried. “Thank you for coming like he said you would.”

  By this point, Harry had cracked and become just as much of a blubbering mess as she had. He hugged Lottie closer, petting the top of her head and feeling her silky hair under his comforting touch. His shirt had become a salty mess, but that was okay because so had his face as the tears tracked down his cheeks. He’d spent a week pent up in his room feeling sorry for himself because he missed Louis, but not once did he cry. He didn’t cry until now; until seeing Louis’ family, when it had hit the hardest.

  The rest of Louis’ sisters that were standing around ran over to Harry, hugging some part of his waist, and he tried his hardest to wrap his arms around all of them. Jay stood by the entryway, watching her four daughters cling to the boy she’d hardly met that apparently meant so much to her son that he meant a lot to all of them too. Her hand was pressed against her mouth to muffle a cry at the sight, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much else Louis had kept from her.

  “Harry, can I talk to you?” Charlotte asked, looking up with the most hopeful blue eyes he’d seen in a while. The colour was the same as Louis’ and it struck through him like a sword through his heart, but he swallowed back the pain that the look in her eyes caused him, and nodded softly.

  “Come here, girls. Let’s go to the kitchen and put the tea on,” Jay offered, and Harry mouthed a quick thanks to her. Daisy, Phoebe and Fizzy followed her out of the room and Lottie finally pulled back, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

  “Guess that one didn’t want to get caught on your shirt,” she laughed, her eyes and cheeks still blotchy from crying. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

  Harry took a glance down at his ruined shirt and waved it off; he’d change and wash it later. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back onto his heals, waiting for whatever it was that Lottie wanted to talk to him about.

  “Right, so,” she started before stopping to take a deep breath. “I know.”

  Harry waited in silence for her to go on, rather than asking for an explanation. He could see the words forming on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be spoken.

  “I know about you and Louis. I didn’t know up until he said goodbye to us, and he mentioned you. Harry, you should have seen the way his whole world lit up when he spoke about you. He was sad to leave, of course he was, but as soon as he mentioned that his good friend Harry would be stopping by there was this distinct hint of admiration behind his eyes and in his voice and he was smiling through his words when he mentioned your curls and—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Harry stopped her for a minute. “Who all—”

  “I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Louis that I know, but I think he knows that I do. I just wanted you to know that I don’t love him any less, or you, for that matter. In fact, I love you more for making my brother so happy. I’m guessing it’s safe to say this hasn’t been going on for just a little while, so without you I bet he’d have been quite miserable.”

  Harry’s mind was running a million miles an hour, and he had no clue what to say to her. Thankfully for him, she didn’t need him to say anything, and she continued right on.

  “I don’t know how much Louis tells you, but it’s probably a lot, all things considered. But he goes through so much hell, almost every day. And he doesn’t have to, but he does it for us, and he toughs through it day in and day out,” Lottie’s eyes were tearing up again, and Harry thought about the dark and purplish splotches he’d see scattered across Louis’ body; pressed into his biceps, littered over his ribs, sometimes even shining off his cheekbones.

  “I’ve seen the bruises before,” Harry gulped.

  “I’ve seen him get those bruises before, even when it should have been me. He just gets so  _mad_  when dad yells at us, I can’t even describe it. And oh, if you only knew how Louis gets when dad tries to hurt us—he’s, well, he’s almost as scary as dad himself. I feel so guilty that he’s always protecting us, even when he doesn’t have to.”

  Harry ran his fingers through his hair, combing back his fringe and watching as the curls fell back over his forehead. He took a deep breath in and out, and again, Lottie just continued on.

  “And it’s just that now I know that after a rough night when I hear him sneaking out the window of his bedroom, he’s sneaking out to see you. You’re the one that keeps him sane when he can’t stand being here, and I can’t even begin to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for my big brother, for however long you’ve been doing it.”

  “How old are you again?” He asked, completely taken back by everything she’s said. Such a young girl standing in front of him, thanking him for all of this. The thing is though; Harry doesn’t see that he does any of this. All he ever takes into account is the greatness that Louis is and how much the simple things that Louis does affects him. But Harry doesn’t do anything in particular for Louis either. He’s just there for him. He loves him with everything he’s got, and apparently that’s what has made such a difference in Louis’ life; what’s got him along and out of the rough patches.

  “Thirteen,” she grinned, thinking the question may have been rhetorical. “So are you going to tell me how long you and my brother have been in love or are you going to make me guess?”

  “I’ll tell you one day, I suppose,” he said, and her face lit up.

  It was nice not to have to keep secrets all the time. Harry had always thought that the two of them were blessed to be able to tell Liam and Danielle about them being together, and because of that, he’d go without complaint that they had to keep it from everyone else. Now that Lottie knew, it was like a newer world opened up to him, where he could be true to who he is and who he loves.

  Lottie stepped in and gave him another hug, considerably less moist than the last one, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Come on,” she said, her hand sliding down his arm and finding his hand. “Mum’s put the tea on.”

  He followed her lead as she dragged him into the kitchen and offered him a seat beside her at the table. Fizzy was sat across from him and the twins were following hot on the trail of their mother as she moved across the kitchen, setting out the fixings for tea on the table. Finally she took a seat next to Fizzy, one of the twins taking the last chair beside her, and the other jumping up to sit on her lap.

  “By the sight of those tears, my guess is you really miss my Louis,” Jay commented to break the ice. She had a spoon clanking around in her cup to stir the milk into her tea. Harry threw a bit of sugar into his own and sipped it gingerly, stopping for a second to blow the steam away from the surface.

   _My Louis_  echoed in Harry’s ears, as under normal circumstances that’s what he too might say. It took everything in him then not to slip up and say  _my Louis_  as well.He just nodded softly and said, “I miss him very much.”

  Lottie’s vibrant blue eyes found his, sadness flashing over them momentarily. His vision flickered back and forth between Lottie and Jay, and his chest seized when he realised he was meeting the love of his life’s parents, or parent, without him being there. The corners of his lips tugged downward, but he fought the frown.

  “He—um,” Harry started, his voice catching in the back of his throat. His hands found the chain that was tucked under his shirt, pulling it from where it was wrapped around his neck. “He gave me this before he left.”

  The chain with the dog tag around it sat comfortably in the palm of his hand, the light glistening off the  _L_  engraved in the center of it. Jay gasped a little, the small airy noise cutting through the room sharply. Harry knew that a whirlwind of memories buzzed right through Jay; he could practically see Louis’ childhood fawn out in front of him through her eyes.

  “He found that with Liam,” Jay smiled, a few tears collecting at her eyes. “He hasn’t taken that thing off since the day they found it.”

  “He said as long as I wore it he’d be here with me, so there would be no reason to miss him,” Harry said, his voice almost wrecked.

  “Seems to me like he was quite fond of you then, if he gave you his chain and all,” She smiled. “It’s a shame I hadn’t met you sooner. I just don’t know how many other friends Louis hasn’t introduced to me yet.”

  “Jay!” A loud voice from the next room over called out roughly. It sounded thick and coated with unjustified anger. They were silent for a moment, and soon he came stumbling into the room, a clear bottle of golden liquid sloshing around in it.

  “Jon, please,” she reasoned. “We’ve got company.”

  “Company? Who the hell—”

  “This is Harry; one of Louis’ friends. He’s stopped by to say hello,” she beamed. It seemed, though, that so long as she tried to smooth everything over, he kept getting angrier. “Look Jon, Louis had given him his chain.”

  “That fucking necklace?” Jon slurred over his words and almost tripped over his own foot as he lunged across the room to see the dog tag chain held out in Harry’s hand. His hand had fisted, clutching and locking the chain and it’s sentiment between his palm and his fingers.

  He set the bottle down and grabbed at Harry’s wrist and his fingers unfolded, revealing the pile of silver chain. He snatched it from Harry’s hand and slammed his other fist against the table, yelling a mix of curses and gibberish along with a demand for Harry to get out of his house and everyone else to get out of his sight.

  Harry stood there, almost shocked, waiting for the chain back, and Jon raised a hand to threaten him away. He should have squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the beating that Louis had gotten many times before, but instead his eyes were wide and his mouth agape, scared and unsure of what to do. Lottie grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him back so he wasn’t in the line of fire, and he followed her through the entryway and out the front door. Their quick steps turned into a sprint, and they ran down the road, Lottie still following Harry’s lead.

  When they got to Harry’s front yard, he bent over, his hands on his buckling knees, gasping for breath. “I’ll get it back,” Lottie’s words were a promise, and she walked over to Harry’s side, setting a hand on his arm for comfort. He nodded and straightened up, and when he turned to look back at the house he could see his mum watching the two of them in the front yard through the window, where a fresh cherry pie sat on the sill.

  “Mum did an awful lot of baking today, if you want to come in for a biscuit or some pie,” he offered, pointing back to the windowsill where the source of the wafting scent sat.

  “That’d be lovely, but I should go see if my mum and sisters are okay,” she said. That’s something Louis would say, and Harry idly wondered if now that Louis was gone, Lottie felt obliged to fill his role and do the protecting.

  Then anger flared through him because, what kind of unjust world did they live in where a thirteen year old girl had to take care of her family? It was a potent anger that coursed through his veins, the very same anger that would boil his blood when he found a new bruise or marking on Louis.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Please take care of yourself, Harry,” Lottie said quickly, pulling him into a final hug before taking off. “You owe me that piece of pie when I come back with the necklace.”

  “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me how you felt about this chapter xoxo  
> the next update will be chapter four, part two: louis' pov  
> oh and spoiler alert: you're going to meet niall and zayn


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